Shades of Red and Purple
by underthered
Summary: When Charlie finally finds out Amita has a boyfriend, he doesn't think things can get much worse. He thought wrong. Rated M for violence and adult themes in later chapters.
1. A Little Twist

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Numb3rs, any of the characters of Numb3rs, or anything, really, to do with that show. I'm just not quite awesome enough. I do, however, own the character of Paul.

**Characters: ** Charlie/Amita, with some brief Larry, Don, and Alan

**A/N:** This marks a lot of firsts for me. This is not only my first Numb3rs fic, but my first fic in years. This is also my first romance fic, though it won't be terribly romantic. The angst is going to take over a lot. I love the show, although I haven't seen as many episodes as some (I started watching at the season finale and have been catching up through repeats). So bear with me, I might make some slips, and I may go back and edit some things based on suggestions. This fic takes place roughly a year after Amita graduates from CalSci; she now teaches computer science there.

**Summary: **When Charlie finally finds out Amita has a boyfriend, he doesn't think things can get much worse. He thought wrong. Rated M for violence and adult themes.

Shades of Red and Purple

_Chapter I: A Little Twist_

Professor Charles Eppes was painfully distracted. It was apparent, and it wasn't an unusual thing for the flighty math genius to get lost in his complex thoughts, but to be so lost with unfinished equations still waiting for answers on his board was very unusual indeed. Amita Ramanujan scanned Charlie's dazed form concernedly with her eyes. He had been her teacher, her thesis advisor, and now he was her colleague, and through all the time she had known him, she knew that if he couldn't concentrate on his work then something must be off. "Charlie?" she addressed cautiously, as though afraid to startle him.

His head jerked towards her and his eyes snapped wide. His consciousness went on high alert to compensate for slacking. "Huh? Yes? What?" he shot off rapidly.

"Nothing, you just looked like you were falling asleep on your feet there." She bore a tiny little grin to him, teasing with her expression alone.

Charlie was not conscious of the way he blushed when she smiled at him, he never was. He simply excused himself, "Yeah, sorry, I've got things on my mind." That was the truth, though slightly to the left of the real truth.

Amita could only shake her head at him. "Don't apologize to me, apologize to your chalkboard," she quipped. With that, she slowly turned back to the computer and resumed her work.

The professor took a moment to gaze fondly at the back of her head and quickly went back to work before she noticed. It wasn't long, however, before he was off task again, fiddling with the papers on his desk. He took a loose strip of paper, twisted it, and brought the ends around to meet each other. As he held it this way he stared at it and sniggered. "Amita," he muttered, "Ever seen one of these?"

She spun around in her chair and one eyebrow quirked involuntarily upward. "What, a Mobius strip? Of course. I made a bunch of them when I was little."

"It's a fascinating thing, really," Charlie went on wistfully, amused and momentarily oblivious to the rest of the room. "It's funny how two separate, independent sides can be joined and become one with something so simple as a little twist." He laughed again somewhat nervously and it was really just a release of the built up pressure he felt constricting his chest.

"Yes, it's a riveting concept," Amita sardonically said, "but do you have a point you're driving at?" She crossed her arms and waited. She didn't assume he had a point at all.

Charlie now threw his point out into the open. "Well… I was wondering if you would do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner." He pushed the suggestion out as fast as possible, the words sloshed together and it was almost incomprehensible, but Amita clearly got the picture. The flattered grin on her face made Charlie's blush deepen a whole shade.

"Charlie, that's so sweet…" she said gently, and Charlie was so delighted to hear this that he didn't even wait for her to finish her sentence before rambling off again.

"Really? Fantastic! Actually, I know this really great looking Chinese place around the corner from my house. They just opened recently, and I've really been wanting to try it out, but I didn't want to go alone and…"

Amita cut him off as soon as she could. "Charlie… Charlie. Slow down!" She wrung her hands anxiously as he stuttered to a stop, then went on, "Charlie, what I was trying to say is that that's very sweet, but… I have a boyfriend."

"You do?" Charlie choked, frozen in place like an ice sculpture.

"Yeah, I do," Amita said faintly. "I've been with him for quite a while now, actually, and I recently moved in with him. He's a good man, he looks out for me."

As his heart took a kamikaze dive into his stomach, the only thing Charlie could say to express the pain of it was, "Oh." His head collapsed and he seemed to take a sudden and profound interest in his knees.

Amita rose and delicately laid a hand upon Charlie's shoulder to comfort him. "I'm sorry, Charlie. You're still a good friend to me."

Done staring at his knees, Charlie lifted his head up to his former student and said shortly, "Don't apologize." He took note of her hand on his shoulder, and the way her sleeve fell back towards the crook of her arm. There, around her wrist, something strange came into focus. It was a bruise, an old one apparently in foul hues of purple and green. She pulled her arm away and the sleeve dropped back into place. The move was very subtle, but Charlie could tell it was purposeful too. "I didn't know, it wasn't your fault," he muttered disjointedly, forcing himself to look upon her face and not her arms.

Hiding behind a smile, Amita said, "Alright, no hard feelings then? Good." She fleetingly pretended to look at the clock. "I've got to go." She packed up her things and made her way hastily towards the door.

Charlie sadly watched her go and tried in vain to convince himself that he hadn't seen anything. Something was very wrong here, he knew it, but he wasn't so sure he was ready to deal with it.


	2. China Doll

Shades of Red and Purple

_Chapter II: China Doll_

Dusk was steadily congealing over LA as Amita arrived home. She nudged the door open, silently, weighed down under her bag and a hefty armload of papers. She set all her things down, gently as she could, then carefully removed her shoes. She treaded lightly across the linoleum of the kitchen floor and tapped open the door to the living room. Paul was in there, stretched out on his recliner in front of the TV. In an unsuccessful attempt at stealth, she tiptoed behind him towards the hallway.

"You're certainly home late." He didn't even turn around.

She paused clumsily but finally straightened herself out to turn and speak at her boyfriend's back. "I had a staff meeting, I'm sorry."

"Sorry, eh?" he said gruffly. He still had not bothered to even look at her. "Sorry you didn't bother to tell me?"

"It slipped my mind, I'm _really_ sorry," she said pleadingly as she held onto herself for support.

Paul lunged forward from his seat and finally spun about to face her. His eyes were on fire when he looked upon her. "Slipped your mind?" he asked incredulously. "Slipped your mind! I had no idea where you were! I thought we had an agreement!" He marched forward and gripped her wrists in his leathery hands. He pulled her close and spoke directly into her face. "You're supposed to tell me where you're going; I'm supposed to know where you'll be at all times. Now that you're living under my roof you're living by my rules, and you need to respect them."

"I tried to call, I really did, but I couldn't get through to you!" She tried to find a scrap of sympathy in his face to appeal to, but found none. Feebly she tugged at his grip, and she would wrestle against him if she honestly thought she could get away.

"Then you should have come home!" scolded Paul, tightening his grip on her the more she fought, just as a boa constrictor does.

Amita scoffed in a moment of unrestrained frustration. "What the hell do you expect me to do, blow off an important meeting? Honestly!"

He released her only to slap her hard across the face, and she dropped sideways onto the floor. One hand pressed against her sore cheek as the other propped her up so she could look on her boyfriend once more. Paul's face was twisted in an offended snarl. "You watch that smart mouth, Little Miss. I'm not going to take that kind of disrespect. Now apologize."

"I'm sorry," she lied, in the faintest of whispers that could have been mistaken for the sound of a breeze coming in from under the door.

The speed with which she was seized up off the floor left her dizzy, but not quite dizzy enough that she didn't feel the pain of her arm being twisted hard around her back. He held her up against the wall and muttered into her ear. "Sorry, I didn't hear you. Tell me a little closer now."

"I'm sorry," Amita sobbed into the beige living room paint. "I won't screw up again, I promise."

Paul smiled a little and kissed her neck. "See, that's better."

He threw her back down and her side struck the coffee table as she fell. She yelped and held onto herself, moving into a withered sitting position. She sat there tearfully studying space when a sharp kick suddenly thrust her back into reality. Standing above her, Paul barked down, "What are you doing just sitting there? I've been waiting for my dinner! Move!"

Amita scrambled to her feet without another word and made for the kitchen with a slight stagger in her step. She made his favorite dinner to bandage up her mistake, but he would not be appeased this night.

In the CalSci library, Charlie found Amita the next day. She was sitting, peacefully reading, completely oblivious to the world around her. His heart flickered a little, embarrassed by the previous day's blunder. Knowing he'd never be able to avoid her until retirement, he settled for peaceful coexistence instead. He walked up to her with a friendly smile and a wave. "Good morning, Amita."

She looked up at him with a relieving grin. "Good morning, Charlie. How are you feeling today?"

"I'm feeling shocked about how many of my students barely remember complex number systems," Charlie mused. He was pleased beyond words that they could still converse with normalcy. He quickly added, "And how are you?"

Amita shrugged indifferently. "Can't complain. A little tired, I guess, considering I didn't get much sleep last night."

Charlie tried very hard not to be as concerned as he was. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh yeah, fine!" Amita assured him easily. "We all have a sleepless night every once in awhile."

"I suppose," Charlie said to Amita as much as he did to his own doubt.

Suddenly her brows furrowed, and she muttered, "Hey, Charlie, do you have the time."

He was thrown off guard by the spontaneity of the change in her expression that it took him a second or two to finally answer her question. "Hm? Oh. Yeah, it's… about nine o'clock."

Amita bit her lip and slammed her book shut. "Damn, I'm going to be late for class." She sprung up from her seat and winced a little as she hit the floor. She replaced the book onto the shelf, snatched up her bag, and set off all in a startlingly quick succession. Then she was out the door. The limp in her walk had been slight, very slight, almost insignificant, but it had been there, and Charlie had seen it. His mind raced, but not with numbers and patterns, not now. He scrambled to catch up with where his thoughts were headed, and when he got there he didn't want to believe what he was thinking. He knew one thing, though; he needed to talk to someone, and he needed to talk now.


End file.
